A lover’s waltz

Burn with me and I shall set you free
my love
dance our unfettered dreams in cadence
and in chaos
or spin away and find your freedom
in arms not mine
in hearts not mine
for I am lost and you
are better off on paths well traveled
I am forbidden fruit or perhaps too rare
and left unseen at the crossroads
time is a river
but choose to stay
and I will bend the world to your choosing
shift and bow
tell me if our dance is over

People and the horse they rode in on

Post people hangover. It’s a thing any introvert can sympathize with. And it’s what happened yesterday and it is what led me to a short depressive episode. Ugh. I am a role-player and not just the sexy kind.

Nope, I’m also a tabletop role player and that means a bunch of people sitting in a room pretending to be something else while one person spins a world of fantasy. In this case a literal one. Because while the ruleset is Palladium, (for reasons, I know the company is awful), they are in my Split Sky world. Though they don’t know what that means.

But still, spending 6+ hours being the center of attention while spinning essentially a consensual hallucination drains me completely. And some days that means I get depressed and some days that means I listen to that bastard part of my brain that says you are fucking up. That I’m not someone who can be loved let alone someone worth loving. And since so much of my self is bound up in love and beauty, that is the things that the bastard in my brain tries to wrest away from me. Tries to control.

Yes, I’m uncertain. Because I believe that certainty leads people to the blind alleys of always being right and unable to see other perspectives and inability to change. It is when we are our most static that we are our most dangerous. Pure chaos burns itself out. Pure order spreads and destroys.

So it takes this element of uncertainty and it spreads it like cancer through everything good and I can manage it but not stop it. Someone who is mine, can stop it but only if I believe that they are mine. Which generally means someone who has said and I believe that they love me. It can’t be family. I feel too distant from them to believe it when I’m depressed.

So that’s my story of my weekend. Introvert plus center of attention for extended periods equals depression. As I say in real life, generally half sarcastically, good times.

Tired, so tired

When I was without communication, without Facebook, without texting, I think I was happier.

Without this constant potential connection, But no actual connection. Because I’m drowning here. I thought I knew how to swim, but maybe the waters are rising. Each attempt, each failure, breaks me further.
Until, at last, there’s nothing left to give.

Valentine’s day 12

The girls, they’re women but they are my girls. The girls walk ahead of me smiling and holding hands in the early February sunshine. Ahead of us is the small garden that our friends planted in late fall. The early spring blooms delicate and just waking to a early spring. The harsh cycle of snow and thaw all but unknown in this shady almost desert. The soft rays of sun caress us.

We walk through an archway of delicate looking peach blooms, more greenery than flowers but small buds are showing their first blush of growth.

The small garden has 3 tables with guests already seated. We are all lifestyle partners, but aside from a few collars, my wife included, it is more Sunday sundress than fetish.

The men are all in various spring suits, mostly white or tan. I stand out like a raven amongst doves. Dressed all in black with a black fedora. Death at the ball.

Peter, a friend and officiant of these proceedings approaches. Sara and Tara kiss me on a cheek each, bookends of my love, and stroll off to mingle and find our seats.

Peter says, his voice pitched low, “It’s all arranged. Does she know what we’re doing here?”

“She knows half of it, she’s already ours this just makes it more so. If the laws were different, I would take another course but needs must,” I reply.

“Well, I hope you know what you are doing. This could go awry very easily,” Peter said doubtfully.

“Pete, I know my girl. She’ll be happy and Sara knows. Sara came up with the contract and got one of her managing partners to make it legal. We all do what we can,” I say decisively.

“Well, if you are sure, let’s get you married. Again,” smiled Peter.

I walk to our seats, Sara on my left and Tara on my right. Normally they are seated opposite and I can see Tara is curious but not scared of the change. This was Sara’s idea. To show Tara her importance, that Today is her day. Leaning back in the comfortable chair, Sara hand held in my lap and Tara clutching my other in hers.

Truthfully I’m a bit nervous. I am almost certain that Tara will say yes but I’m not positive. There is always a bit of trepidation with these things and you can rarely tell how it will turn out. All you can do is hope.

Peter stands at ease at the front of our little gathering. He starts.

“Welcome everyone to our Valentine’s day event. We’ll be serving a complete high tea for which we thank Victoria and Kevin for their service to us today. It is through their hard work and dedication that our garden is as beautiful and immaculate as it is. A round of applause for Victoria and Kevin.”

We all clap and smile at Peter’s service submissives. They are in little waitstaff outfits and they are smiling with their heads bowed at the praise of their master and the approval of the gathering. Without these two, these events would need to be catered and less private. Victoria and Kevin are married to each other but are bound in Service to Peter. It works for them and watching how their dynamic worked these past few years is what gave me the courage to seek a third. Sara and I have always been polyamourous, but short term liasons have been…unfulfilling, if not disastrous. With Tara we just clicked.

Peter continues. “Today is a special day for three of our little group. Pel and Sara have been with us for a few years and we’ve all enjoyed their company. Some of us more than others,” Peter smiles.

“They’ve cut a bit of a swath through our ranks, engaging one or another in various fun and hijinks. But today they bring into their family a new love. Tara. Tara comes from outside the group, for which our long term partnerships are grateful.”

The group chuckles lightly.

“I kid, but seriously, the pull of a Dominant switch and a aggressive pain slut is almost too much for some of us to resist. But thankfully, that won’t be much of a problem, because adding Tara to their dynamic is going to leave them completely exhausted. Believe me, I know of which I speak.”

The group grins and laughs.

“Tara, please come up here,” Peter asks.

“Go ahead my dear.” I say, steel in my voice. An order, but she smiles and goes up to the front. Walking like a little girl. Carefree.

Peter looks at Tara and asks, “Tara, are you here of your own volition?”

Tara replies calmly, “I am.”

“Are you being coerced in any way?” Peter continues.

“No, I am not.”

“And last, but not least, Are you being abused emotionally, verbally, or physically?”

There are bruises forming on her arms from this mornings activities. But this is a question of intent. And of her feelings, regardless of the intent of the master. Just because the Dominant does not think something is abuse doesn’t mean it’s not.
The submissive decides for themselves what is too much. We use this ceremony to make sure that the submissive is not so cowed that they cannot choose for themselves. And it allows for Peter, the clinical psychologist, to try and get a read and make sure no one has been broken.

Tara replies, “I’m with Pel and Sara of my own free will and nothing we do is abuse.”

There is a ritual to this and she added the second part. I beam at her, smiling like a wild thing. Improvisation in the face of authority. I am so proud of the progress she is making.

Peter smiles and says, “Well, ok then. Pel come on up here.”

I get up and walk to the front. It’s no more than six steps but it feels like a mile. I have Tara’s collar in my left pants pocket and ring in the right. It’s like walking through lead until I see Tara looking at me. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears but her whole body is relaxed and almost smiling.

I let loose a breathe I didn’t realize I was holding, tension eases out with the last two steps.

Peter moves to the side, leaving Tara and I front and center.

“Tara,” I say, “you have been more of a blessing than either I or Sara could have imagined. You are not only our lover. You have also set our whole household in order. All the little things that seemed to have fallen by the wayside, you found and fixed. And we love you for that. But more than what you do, we value and love you for who you are. Every day is a new journey and a new challenge but every day you seem to make us laugh or comfort us on our bad days. We love you and want to make you ours. I present this collar. The collar of our possession of you.”

I place the white soft leather collar around her neck, snug but not tight. A small gold heart dangles from the little ring on the front.

“This collar marks you as our owned pet. None may touch you without your consent but now, none may touch you without our acquiesce either. Additionally, you are under our protection and a slight against you is a slight against us.”

Tara leans onto me and holds me close, burying her head against my neck.

Then she composes herself and gets ready to head back to her seat.

Normally, that’s the end of the proceedings. And Tara has seen one of these and been coached by Sara.

I let her take a step, then say “Wait, please.”

Tara turns back to me.

“I have one more thing to say. Tara, this collar makes you officially ours. But for us we want to take it a step further. Both Sara and I.” I sink to one knee.
I present her shocked visage with the antique platinum and 4ct. Flawless blue sapphire.

“Both Sara and I want to ask, will you marry us?”

Valentine’s day post 

I apologize, belatedly, about not posting the 12 installment of the Valentine’s day story. Real life put me in a headspace where writing that particular story was not possible. At least not possible and to do it correctly. But tomorrow at 7AM the 12th installment of Valentine’s day will post. If it’s any consolation, it’s three times longer than a normal installment. I hope you enjoy it and if you haven’t been reading it and want to, today is a perfect day to catch up.

Drifting thoughts before sleep

This need to write wells up, but to what avail? This distance keeps us apart or is distance a convenience of the heart?
I’d be there tomorrow, but how far can I push before you run away? I don’t know.
I’m certain only of my self and don’t know what goes on when my eyes close. When you are alone with your thoughts. When I would be holding you.